


When Scientist Becomes Synonymous With Hero

by TheQueen



Series: When Scientist Became Synonymous With Hero [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animals, M/M, Multi, OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they started driving, Carlos grasped Cecil’s free hand and closed his eyes, deciding as the thoughts and worries about what he was going to do with his time began to creep back into the forefront of his mind that he was going to take the day as it came. After all, he wasn't a scientist for the two weeks, right? No need to plan ahead like he usually would. He could just … enjoy it?</p><p>  <b>DISCONTINUED</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the information I have as of Episode 34. StrexCorp is not a thing I want to deal with and, as such, does not exist in this fanfiction at this time.

_A vacation is what you take when you can no longer take what you've been taking._

_Earl Wilson_

_..._

It became routine to wake with a scream nestled in the back of his throat, clawing to get out and turning his voice hoarse when he finally beat it down. Most of the time he beat down. But now none of the others come running when he can’t unless the scream was accompanied by something shattering. They understood.

After that, he'd go take a shower and wash off the cold sweat, taking care to turn the knob three times to the left, once to the right, and then tickle the head so to get real, proper, clear water and not whatever green slush the shower had taken to sprouting when not appropriately pampered (Olu had been working on figuring out how it worked, but Olu had also finally woken up after a two week slumber and Carlos wasn't too keen on sending him back to work for a while).

Usually, by the time he came down others would be loitering around the kitchen with the coffee machine quietly humming in the background, chugging warm cup after warm cup of caffeine. Most of the time, there was some low chatter; careful not to be too loud in case one attracted something they did not want to the window.

They had made that mistake once when celebrating a good job well done their second week in Night Vale and that was how they'd lost Bonnie.  They tried bolting sheets of metal along the window afterwards, but the Sheriff’s Secret Police had been quiet … stern in their denial, claimed it was hard to hear past it (for their safety, of course) and so they had replaced the sheets with a grid so sometimes the apartment looked more like a jail then a home which was terribly morbid and bad for team morale so Minnie (whose real name the rest of the team was still trying to guess) had started to twist vines around the bars. The purple and blue vines had been deemed harmless for humans after they had strangled a two-legged Water Serpent with malice intentions after said Water Serpent had broken into their lab. Now the vines doubled as a great security system and something rather pretty to look at.

This time the kitchen was unusually quiet with only the faint muffled sob to break the silence. They had lost Rashida that afternoon to the Sand Wastes during a gas leakage that had sprung up in the convenience store. Mitchell’s was the only place to carry Rashida’s favorite brand of coconut juice. It was an accident and unfortunate one, though becoming less-rare every week and Carlos made a mental note to inform Zane and Olu to look at it. Everyone hoped she'd come back once she found what she needed unlike Charlie, though Magnolia March had insisted that she had spotted the lost Scientist a few months ago so maybe there was hope.

“Hey, Bossman,” Olu greeted when Carlos entered the kitchen and made a beeline to the coffee machine.

In her corner, Alex sobbed in greeting. And a few other’s waved hello.

“How is Alex holding up?” he dropped his voice to a low whisper.

Olu shook his head.

He cursed softly under his breath. That was always the danger here, wasn't it? Losing loved ones. Losing family. Everyone loved Rashida. She had been the calm one and a mother hen and one of Carlos' closest friends. She was the first one to make the shared house really feel like a home. And Alex and her had had their own relationship. How far it had gone, Carlos doesn’t know, but he at least knew it was serious.

Looking around the room, he spotted others huddled together in mourning. Their mouths moving in Night Vale’s proper ceremonial chants for safe passage or their own religious pleas to their God(s).

When he arrived, he had 15. This morning, he had 7. Now, he has six.

And he was tired. He was bone deep tired. Tired in the way that pushed down on your shoulders and tied cinderblocks to your feet. Tired in the way that made your bones brittle and your thoughts dark and mushy. Carlos was tired in a way that no good night of sleep was ever going to take away and he wanted to rest. He wanted to just close his eyes and get one good night of sleep and he wanted to wake up and have 15 again instead of 6. But both are equally improbable because even death was a constant in Night Vale.

In the corner, the radio turned on by itself and the sound of soft wailing filtered through the room and settled in the air like an uneasy fog.

“Bossman,” Olu said after listening to the wails for a few minutes, “I think… I think we need a break.”

“Yes… Yes, I suppose you're right.”

…

They finished everything that could be done in three weeks (they'd planned for one week which had become two weeks and had almost become four before Carlos noticed that the bags under his eyes had started making him look more malnourished than usual and the other’s weren't faring any better) and shut down all the experiments that couldn’t. Then they locked up all their notebooks and illegal writing utensils so as to avoid temptation.

“Are you sure this is for the best,” Alex asked, adjusting the straps of her backpack. They agreed not to live in the house during the break so Alex was going to go live with Hussain, Rashida’s brother, and Minnie in their rented apartment above the Laundromat, the only place that had always been able to get the bloodstains out without ruining their lab coats (Cecil had recommended them). 

Carlos shrugged, “I don't know, but… I don't think it will hurt.”

Cecil had said he'd come pick him up as soon as his show was over barring Station Managements wrath or a life-threatening situation that could make leaving the station a little perilous. So far, the evening was rather calm so Carlos hoped he'd be around (according to his watch, though it probably wasn't correct) 8pm.

_“Stay tuned for the silence of the night that creeps across your bedroom threshold to smother you in your bed interrupted by the occasional soulless wail._

_Good Night, Night Vale, Good Night.”_

Glancing down at his watch, Carlos made a mental note that the minute hand had skipped fifteen minutes and now reads 7:50pm before remembering that Science had been banned for the two weeks and that he really should stop making mental notes about the time.

Outside, a car horn bellowed and Zane woke with a start. “-ish me?”

Peering through the bars, Alex shook her head, “Nah. I’s me. See you guys around?”

“How about Friday for Rico’s?”

“I’ll spread the word,” she called out as she head through the door. She was doing much better, Carlos thought, thanks to a spotting of Rashida out in the Scrublands. Hopefully, the fact that Rashida was staying so close to town meant she'd be coming back soon. Charlie only ever made it to the border of the Sand Wastes before leaving again.

Zane groaned. “Hey Bossman, wake me when mah ride comes, yeah?”

Carlos agreed, “Yeah, I'll wake you.”

“You da best,” he mumbled before falling back asleep. Zane had been working near nonstop to finalize his thesis on whether or not the cactus water found in the scrublands could be used for medicinal purposes considering their strange, pain-relieving yet poisonous properties, a project that lasted longer than intended because Rashida was no longer there to assist. James and Olu agreed to let Zane rest while they went and finalized their rooms at Josie’s. Josie had agreed to let the boys stay in exchange for helping her and the angels around the rather large and extravagant bed and breakfast that had been in her family’s possession for a “very, very long time” (a phrase she had uttered in a Cecil-esque tone of despair and haunting followed by a brief silence before asking those gathered if they'd like some freshly made raisin bread for their trip back to the lab).  

Carlos went back to watching the door and twiddling his thumbs, not knowing what to do with himself now that he couldn't—wouldn't—do science. He was usually always doing science. He was doing science so often it had but a strain on his relationship and caused other relationships to break. And now here he was, not doing science. It was… it was strange. It was a sort of strange that he wasn't used to because it didn't fit into the Night Vale variant of strange. Rather… it was just a normal sort of strange. Which was stranger than the usual sort of strange he was used to dealing with, and wasn’t that fascinating? That he had become so accustomed to this little desert town that strange and stranger was more defined by personal relative variables instead of a social construct?

He got stuck on this thought for a moment, rolling it around his mind when there was a knock on the door. It took two more knocks to bring him back.

Cecil was here. Time to go.

Waking Zane up to tell him he was leaving, Carlos collected his things (two bags; a box full of books, only some municipal approved; and some of the remaining food in the fridge that the others haven’t taken) and opened the door.

“Carlos,” Cecil beamed, and that will never stop being flattering nor slightly terrifying.

“Hey, I’m ready to go.” Carlos said, shrugging his shoulders to indicate his bags.

“Right, yeah. Okay,” Cecil plucked the bags off Carlos’ shoulders and picks up the boxes as if they weighed nothing and continued to smile. “Is this it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

They continued to stand there—Cecil just grinning as if he had never been happier—until Carlos shook his head and chuckles, “Did you bring the car or…?”

“Yes!” Cecil nodded, now blushing purple, turned and hurried to where he'd parked the car.

Carlos followed at a more sedated pace—pointedly ignoring the way Zane was silently laughing at him when he turned to close the door—so that when he arrived at the car, Cecil was practically vibrating with excitement. Quickly glancing around to make sure no one was around—politely ignoring the poorly concealed Sheriff’s secret policeman, Mona—before leaning over and kissing Cecil. “Missed you.”

“Mmmm missed you too,” Cecil breathed against his lips, pulling Carlos closer and kissing him again.

Carlos liked the way Cecil kissed, soft but lingering like Cecil was always holding himself back, like … as if he saw Carlos as something fragile that needed to be protected. It was … it was flattering and made his toes tingle. And he tends to end up grinning like a love-stuck idiot when they're done. He could probably kiss Cecil for days. He'd just never had enough time to test that theory.

But now … now he did. Didn't he?

Grinning, he kissed Cecil again and again and again and again. So that they stayed, pressed against the back door of Cecil’s car like imagined teenager he sometimes wanted to be during high school, just kissing and enjoying each other’s company after not seeing each other for two weeks since Carlos had been terribly busy with science and Cecil had been too understanding (though from the way, his grip tightened and loosened rhythmically, it was obvious the separation had been a strain), until a the honk of Carlos’ hybrid startled them apart.

“Go, bossman!” Olu cheered as he leaned outside the window.

On the driver’s side, James mimicked throwing up before calling out, “It’s like watching your parents kiss.”

Carlos laughed as Cecil made strange squeaking noises to his side. How someone who was so at ease with broadcasting their dates on the radio could be so easily embarrassed evaded Carlos.

“Come on,” Carlos pulled away and walked to his side of the car and saying loudly to make sure the other’s could hear him. “Let’s leave before Zane comes out to join the clowns.”

“You know you love us, Bossman!”

“Sure I do,” Carlos rolled his eyes and closed the car door as Cecil got into the driver side and started the engine.

As they started driving, Carlos grasped Cecil’s free hand and closed his eyes, deciding as the thoughts and worries about what he was going to do with his time began to creep back into the forefront of his mind that he was going to take the day as it came. After all, he wasn't a scientist for the two weeks, right? No need to plan ahead like he usually would. He could just … enjoy it?


	2. Home

_Expressions of affection, like putting your arm around someone's shoulder, holding hands, or giving a kiss good night, involve the principle of honesty._

_John Bytheway_

…

Cecil’s apartment was defined by its colors.

They’d only been thinking about living together for a short time, ever since the incident with the condos, and it was a slow process with Carlos coming over more often and just sort of leaving more stuff behind then taking back with him. Organic. It felt right that way to just sort of weave their live together naturally instead of picking a day where they were going to start living together. Carlos didn’t want structure this time, despite being a scientist or maybe because he was a scientist. Instead he wanted to create a sort of mutualistic relationship, a co-habitation, like a … like a clownfish and an anemones.

Officially, the apartment was a temporary set up, meant to hold them over until they found something bigger but still affordable (unsurprisingly, even in Night Vale community radio was not the most well paying endeavor for a man of Cecil’s skill and popularity). When Carlos had first seen it after their fourth date together (he counted it as the fourth anyway considering it was the fourth date he hadn’t utterly failed at and he purposely pushed the incident with the mushrooms to the back of his mind with a sort of Night Valian denial that Cecil would be proud of) he had just stood in the doorway, gawking like an idiot at the vibrant oranges and reds that covered every surface of the living room wondering if he was in the right place. Now, he walked in as if he’d been doing so his whole life, toed off his shoes and carried the bag that he had to wrestle out of Cecil’s hands in the garage to the bedroom (decorated purple and white, of course) which he dropped into the center of the room with a rather satisfying thump.

“Home, sweet home,” he mumbled to himself, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Cecil walked in a few moments later, empty handed seeing as logically he must have deposited the box of food and books in the kitchen and living room respectively. “Hey,” he grinned.

Carlos reached out a hand and drew Cecil closer and grinned, “Ello there.” Leaning forward, he caught Cecil in a kiss again before tilting backwards onto the bed with a soft thump.

Pulling back to greedily gulp in air, he laughed, “You know what?”

Cecil’s hair was now beyond saving and his lips were a lovely bruised pink. He was also blushing. Carlos was starting to realize that he really, really liked Cecil’s blush. He wondered what Cecil’s reaction would be if he told him this. Not for science (he wasn’t a scientist for the two weeks, he reminded himself sternly) but just because he could. He would probably blush harder all the way from his face down to his chest and now wasn’t that a lovely thought.

“What?”

Carlos’ smile widened. “I could get used to this.” Before flipping them over.

…

Carlos woke up to an empty bed and an empty room.  And in the kitchen, someone cursed.

Sitting up, slowly, he paused to let out a jaw-breaking yawn before stretching his back until it gave with a satisfying crack. He was getting old, which didn’t make him feel any more attractive considering he spent most of his time with grad students enjoy the most out of life. It took a moment for him to find his glasses and a few more moments for him to give up on finding his clothes and just pulled on one of Cecil’s sweats and t-shirt. This one read “Welcome” in big red letters and underneath a road made of bones stretched on into the horizon. It was one of Cecil’s tamer tees and was rather soft. It also smelled like him, which was always a plus. Cecil statistically smelled very, very nice.

Much better than last time. While still soft and well worn and smelling of Cecil, the last t-shirt had read “The Void” and had displayed a rather gory and detailed eye on the center that Carlos swore blinked though Cecil reassured him it did not. “I don’t wear animated clothes, my dear perfect Carlos,” he had said, “That is so last decade.”

After which Carlos and his team had spent two days searching a few of the thrift stores in search of any animated clothes for analysis. Olu had found a talking bra, which had been hilarious. Zane still had pictures.

It was only when he’d wandered into the kitchen and slid up behind Cecil for a surprise hug that he realized how well he had slept…He probably hadn’t slept that well in weeks! He wasn’t sure what to conclude with that data. Further studies would need to be done. Had it been the sex? Or Cecil? Or the bed? There were too many variables.

It took Cecil’s arms around his waist to pull Carlos out of his head. Burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest in embarrassment, he scolded himself for forgetting. No science. No experiments. Just enjoy it. He didn’t need to find out why. He just needed to appreciate it. He could figure it out later if he was so inclined.

“Early morning, sleepy head.”

Carlos snuggled closer, “How long was I out?”

“Doesn’t matter. You needed it. Don’t think I didn’t notice how exhausted you’ve been this past month.” 

“Yeah,” Carlos pulled back a little too look Cecil in the eye, “That’s why we needed this break.”

“Which is why,” Cecil grinned and seemed to vibrate a little in excitement, “I will be taking care of you.”

“Cecil, you don’t have to –“

“Hush! You are officially under house arrest tomorrow so you can get your strength back up,” Cecil giggled, “I’ve cleared the tomorrow with station management. And –“

“You didn’t hurt yourself did you?” Carlos cut in. He hadn’t noticed anything…though his skills of observation decreased significantly during sex; it was a well-proven fact.

“No, no,” Cecil reassured him. “No organ donations at all. Just a pint of blood and an agreement to come work on the next two cancelled days.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Carlos was never comfortable with how easily Cecil allowed himself to get hurt. It…it wasn’t right at all. He didn’t care if Cecil didn’t feel pain like he did. Seeing him hurt made Carlos’ heart heavy and his breathing quicken as if he were going to have a heart attack. Overall a terrible feeling and he tried his best to make sure it didn’t happen.

Cecil just starred at him fondly before making a small eep of a noise and pulling away and picked the food off the flames. “Oops!” he cried turning off the gas and allowing the liquid to settle back down.

“Pasta?”

“Not as great as yours, of course,” Cecil smiled over his shoulder as he strained the pasta in the sink. “But seeing as you won’t be lifting a finger for the next two days, I suppose it’ll have to do.”

Carlos rolled his eyes and felt his face grow hot. That was another thing he was sure he’d never get used to: how easily Cecil complimented him. But…it left a good feeling so he didn’t mind. Made him feel warm from his toes to his cheeks. “I’m sure it’ll be _perfect_ ,” he insisted, which earned him a laugh at their own private joke, while pulling the plates down to set the table.

…

After dinner they curled up on the sofa. The TV time read 3 AM. And on screen a stuffed turtle was sent flying into the air as the crowd cheered and the contestants started running, each weighed down by their special weights. The woman dragging a tank behind her climbed into the machine and began driving. On the other hand, the one with cinder blocks chained to his ankles just sat down with a rather mournful cry.

The knock on the window pulled Carlos away and he collected the now empty dishes sitting precariously on the windowsill. “Jefferson liked the cake,” he called out as he deposited the dishes in the sink to be washed tomorrow. He made a note to ask Cecil if some of the machinery had any quirks and made a double note to ask about the showerhead.

“I’ll have to tell Auntie Kayode,” Cecil called back as the one of the contestants cried in frustration as, from where Carlos stood, it looked like the tank had just crossed the finished line in record time.  

“How is her name coming?” Carlos asked, sitting down on the sofa again and curling into the warmth that was Cecil. “Has her paper work finally cleared?”

“Yup,” Cecil said, shifting so Carlos lay more comfortably in his lap, “Says we should get used to calling her Auntie Kayin soon.”

“I’m happy for her,” Carlos said around a yawn. “Got worried when they said they lost her corrected birth certificate.”

“All right, bed time,” Cecil cooed, turning off the TV with a roll of his wrist.

Carlos groaned, “But I’m comfortable,” he pretended to whine.

Cecil rolled his eyes and picked him up much to Carlos’ protests, insisting he was perfectly capable of walking, thank you very much.

Carlos laughed when his back hit the bed for a second time that night and he couldn’t help but give a dorky eyebrow wiggle to which Cecil replied with his own sexy-but-not-really wink.

“You are utterly perfectly ridiculous,” Cecil complained, climbing into bed after him so they lay together in the center of the bed just sort of starring at each other and Carlos could feel those three special words nestle in the back of his throat, just waiting for him to pluck up his courage and open his mouth but he couldn’t and so he said instead, “I try,” with a quirky drawl on the “y” which earns him another eye roll and found smile. And look, that wonderful warm feeling was back.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Cecil asked and this time it was his turn to yawn. Peeking at the clock, it read 3:40 AM. But this clock tended to be 15 minutes fast (Carlos had tested it the last four times he’d visited and stayed the night) so it was actually probably 3:25 AM.

Carlos shrugged as much as one could shrug when lying on their side and said, “We’ll just have to see.” And wasn’t that weird. Usually, the answer would be science and then science with a lunch break where he’d go visit Cecil then more science and then dinner if he remembered and a phone session with Cecil and then an attempt to go to sleep which would lead to waking up too fast and staying up too late huddled with his team in the dark of night, flinching at every noise and talking in hushed tones until the sun finally, finally rose. Not that he had told Cecil that part (though part of him thinks he knew because Cecil just tended to _know_ things he really shouldn’t). 

“Okay,” Cecil closes his eyes and tugs Carlos, “We’ll see.”

Carlos followed suit and closed his eyes. Yeah… They'll just have to see. 


	3. The Team (Part 1)

_Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops._

_Cary Grant_

…

Minnie was busy checking the bags under her eyes with the sort of disconnect one felt when faced with a rather annoying and yet adorable child when her cell phone started singing what sounded like the national anthem … though it was about two octaves lower than usual and the word “America” has been replaced with a small child’s giggle. This immediately caught her attention because she had never heard the tune before nor installed it on her phone (nor did she think anyone else would be cruel enough to install it in her phone as a joke) but she was still certain it was her phone, not Hussain or Alex’s, for some strange unexplainable reason and the need to pick it up was undeniable. Which, obviously, immediately set off a series of mental warning bells because anything that tended to compel you to do something in Night Vale needs to be handled with a hazmat suit and a fifty-foot blast-radius.

So instead of leaving the bathroom to check her phone, she plants her feet in front of the mirror, stared herself straight in the eyes and said, “No.” And it was the sort of “no” every girl in her middle school health class had been taught. It was the sort of “no” she hollered when she turned down Cambridge and Harvard to attend the University of What It Is. It was the “no” she’d screamed at her stepfather when she’d pulled him off her mother. It was a “no” that she uttered with every fiber of her being, captured in the strength of her arms and the steel of her eyes. It was a no she felt in every molecule and space between each molecule. Because she’d decided, fourteen and scared of walking home alone through downtown Cleveland, that nothing moved her unless she wanted it to and she dared it to try.

The song cut off the moment her lips closed around the “O,” the noise leaving a sort of hollow silence that makes her heartache and her eyes water in regret and longing despite her better judgment. It took a while for her to unstick her feet, move away from the mirror and enter the bedroom she was now sharing with her boyfriend. And even as she passed the threshold she could feel the weight of that silence like a cut noose dangling from her neck.

Sitting innocently near the foot of the bed was the phone. It was in the same place she had carelessly dropped it on her way to the bathroom. And it looked normal. No appendages that should never be attached to a piece of technology, no oozing, and no cracks or dents that hadn’t been there before. Starring at it for a moment longer, she turned and made her way across the hall and into the kitchen where Hussain was leaning against their kitchen wall, starring out the window in deep thought, his frown prominent under his mustache.

“Did you hear my phone?” she asked.

Hussain didn’t turn from the window, “It wasn’t just your phone.”

She frowned and followed his gaze out the window and onto the street bellow where a progression of people were slowly marching in the direction of City Hall, each walking in unison, each holding a cell phone tightly in their grasps, each humming that same bastardized version of the national anthem.

“Though neither mine nor Alex’s rung,” Hussain added, “So it seems to only be affecting a few people.”

“Or rather the perpetrator is only contacting a certain people,” Minnie countered, still starring out the window. The mob had left, only the stragglers still marching in key with the others, making their way zombie-like down the road.

“Should we contact the others?”

“Shouldn’t we?”

Hussain shrugged, “We’re on break. This…” he gestured to the window, “This is someone else’s problem now.”

“You can’t,” Minnie starred at him, taking in his almost relaxed posture, his neutral face and felt a sort of sickened frustration settle in her belly like hot coal, “You can’t be serious.”

“Night Vale has dealt with far worse without our interference,” Hussain reminded her, turning away from the window and opening his phone where he preceded to, she assumed, text everyone else.

“Only because we’re usually busy dealing with worse tragedies.” That was the agreement they had made when their numbers had begun to dwindle too quickly, too fast from deaths and departures. They would pick their cases, rate the incidents on the danger-meter that had appeared in their lab randomly—she was certain it was a gift from the City Council but James disagreed and said it should just be burnt—and act only when they could provide sufficient aid or else wait for the incident to pass before collecting appropriate data and creating solutions so the problem did not reappear. 

His phone buzzed three times as Alex entered the kitchen, hair attempting to imitate a peacock and clutching her phone tightly between white knuckles. Flipping through the texts, Hussain said, “James says he and Zane are willing and they’ll drag Olu out of bed if necessary.”

“And Carlos?” Alex asked.

Hussain’s lips thinned, “Cecil texted back, said that Carlos was sleeping.”

“Did you ask him to wake him up?” Minnie asked.

Alex pulled out a piece of gluten-free bread out of the cabinet and started tearing it apart, rolling the bread into compact balls before tossing it into her mouth. And Hussain finished off the coffee he had been nursing when Minnie had walked in.

“Shouldn’t Cecil be reporting on this,” Alex reminded them when she was done with her slice.  Minnie could tell she was tense from the tight line of her shoulders and the way she pursed her lips.

Hussain sent off another text and they waited a few minutes before the phone buzzed again and he read, “Apparently Cecil took the day off. And that Carlos really needs his rest.” The phone buzzed again, “Cecil reassures us that this isn’t anything major and the Sheriff’s Secret Police will probably be able to handle it.”

“Oh,” Alex said relieved.

“Probably?” Minnie was skeptical. The Police around here didn’t tend to be of much use beyond breaching on people’s right to privacy.

Hussain shrugged and began making himself another cup off coffee, seemingly unperturbed, “At least that is what the man Jefferson suggested according to Cecil.”

“Who is Jefferson?”

“The S.S.P. assigned to Cecil’s apartment,” Alex piped in, now spooning cereal into her mouth, “Carlos told me when he was asking for chocolate cake recipes. Apparently, Jefferson is really picky.”

Minnie just starred at them as ate their breakfast or sipped their coffee, totally at calm and that hot coal in her belly grew heavier in distaste and a sense of… horror was too strong a word. “So we’re just going to leave them like that.”

“Cecil says not to worry,” Alex confirmed.

Minnie hissed through clenched teeth, “Cecil can be wrong.”

Alex paused and looked up at her and opened her mouth to reply just as the radio switched one with a sharp scream like a man who just had his toe run over and then a scratchy voice, prepubescent voice came on the air that reminded Minnie vaguely of a Chihuahua in human form. “Hello Night Vale. This…*nervous laugh* ah! This is Intern David. Cecil is not here right now… presently… I mean like… in the station, but he is here on earth. That… he will be back tomorrow so no… no riots please. Thank you. But … but the City Council would like to report that those who were being controlled by their cellular devices have been… um… well they have been dealt with and most… m-most will be returning to their families shortly after a r-r-routine reeducation. Thank you for y-your cooperation Night Vale.”

Alex just looked at Minnie before finishing her cereal and depositing the bowl in the sink. “I’m going out. Zane and I made plans to go visit Emily and then do some shopping for Thanksgiving.”

Hussain picked up his phone again and sent another series of texts, “Would you like me to pick up groceries for this weekend?”

Minnie cleared her throat, twice, and picked up a banana out of the fruit bowl. “Okay then.”

 

…

James turned off his phone and threw it onto the bed, just barely missing the sleeping Olu still cocooned under the blankets so only the top of his forehead peaked out from underneath.

“Told you,” Zane grinned from where he was lounging on the window seat, flipping through a copy of the _Breakfast for Champions_ by Kurt Vonnegut. On its cover was a large golden seal reading Municipal Approved with a crescent moon etched into the background. 

James shrugged, “Your blind belief in Cecil is annoyingly native,” he said with a soft southern drawl that tended to slide in whenever he felt particularly tired or annoyed, a leftover from his Nana.

Zane, not bothering to reply with anything witty, continued to read his book and emanate a strong wave of general smugness. And so James was left to sit in the silence of their rented bedroom, playing 2048 on his phone, until he was saved by a blessed series of sharp knocks on the door. Getting up from the comfy rocking chair that Grandma Josie had provided, he ambled over and opened the door to a rather large and imposing 10’3’’ Erika floated just a few inches off the ground. If James had to guess, he would say exactly 5’’.

When James had first arrived in Night Vale, his first propriety had been to capture the ability of flight, believing that the angels were no more than another species like many of the other inhabitants of Night Vale. Now he knew better. Plus, it was hard to run experiments on things that didn’t technically exist.

“Can I help you?’ James asked. Grandma Josie had allowed them the day off to rest after noticing how tired they had been during dinner.

Erika whistled a series of high and low notes that made a sort of disjointed yet pleasant and repetitive melody, and for a moment James felt that he too was floating, flying away from the earth and up beyond the moon and into the sun, before crashing back to earth, his heart jolting in his chest as gravity grabbed him once the angel had finished speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he says because he feels like it’s the right thing to say and because he knows without understand what Erika had said, “I’m sure Zuko didn’t mean it.”

The angel nodded its head sagely before stepping aside and allowing Zuko entrance to the room. The great one-eyed Rottweiler simply harrumphed in displeasure before jumping up onto the bed to curl up next to Olu who had woken suddenly—probably thanks to the angel’s speech which was hard to ignore—and was now betting the great beast of a dog.

Erika sung what James mind supplied as a “Thank you,” before departing by slowly fading out of existence in a slow increase of light so by the end James had to turn away and close his eyes to avoid being blinded.

Closing the door when he found his bearings again, James spun on his heel and snapped a harsh, “Bad dog.”

“Aw, lighten up,” Zane cooed, setting down his book so he could move onto the bed and scratch Zuko behind the ear. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“He chewed on one of the Erika’s robes,” James scowled, “Which we had explained earlier was a big no-no. You’re lucky they weren’t mad.”

Zuko whined apologetically and pressed his head closer to Zane’s hand to get my scratches behind the ear.

“Do angels get mad?” Zane asked.

“According to Old Woman Josie they do,” James said, sitting down on the bed so his legs hung off the side and his head rested on Olu’s calfs.

“Oi!” Olu grumbled but didn’t dare move his legs.

“Sorry,” Zuko apologized when the silence had dragged a little more.

James sighed and threw an arm over his eyes, “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“It smelt good,” Zuko added unhelpfully.

“Zuko.”

“I won’t do it again,” Zuko promised.

“Good,” Zane praised, adding another ear scratch before getting up and stretching until his back popped and let out a satisfied groan. “And now I have to get ready. Alex and I are heading out.”

“Gonna visit Emily?”

Zane laughed, “Apparently Alex wants to visit the kids.”

Olu yawned. “Did I sleep past breakfast?”

…

On the bedside, the clock blinked an ominous red as it slowly changed the zero to a one so the time now read 12:01pm.

Besides him, Cecil snuggled closer against his back so that they were pressed flush from head to toe, a solid heat source against his back. In the corner of his eye, he saw the Faceless Woman who Lived in Their Home fiddle with his cell phone, perhaps writing a text message or an email.

Cecil groaned, “I can hear your brain.”

Carlos turned in Cecil’s hold so now they lay face to face with Cecil looking at him with squinted eyes as if annoyed though it was probably just sleepiness keeping his eyelids heavy. “Good morning.”

Cecil yawned, “Good morning, my perfectly imperfect Scientist. What were you thinking about?”

Carlos shrugged as much as one could shrug when lying down.

Cecil humored him and didn’t press. “Well, it woke me up.”

“Sorry.”

Cecil just smiled, “Well, I suppose a scientist is always thinking.”

Carlos hummed in agreement and leaned in for a nice good morning (or rather good afternoon if the clock was too go by, but when is it) kiss, morning breath in all that left him feeling rather giddy as if he had drank four of Old Woman’s Josie’s somewhat illegal espressos, which was not something he could recommend considering his best friend was a doctor and his sister a nurse.

Carlos spied the watch securely attached to Cecil’s wrist, very rarely removed, and saw how quickly the hour and minute spun past each other and ducked so he could hide his sad smile between Cecil’s neck and shoulder blade. Was a nurse, rather. His sister had been a nurse.

Now, he supposed, she was dead.

Cecil petted his hair before wiggling away and rolling out of bed with a clumsy thump when he landed on his feet. “I think I’ll go start breakfast. Would you like anything?” he asked while pulling a WTNV Radio Show t-shirt over his head, his short hair sticking up in various angles like a slightly mortified porcupine.

“No, I’m good with anything,” he says around a yawn before climbing out of bed to go pee.

By the time he is done there is the smell of toast and coffee filtering from behind their closed bedroom door and he spends only a few minutes searching for clothes amongst those thrown on the floor (and how is it the bedroom is already so messy and part of him blames the sex and most of him blames the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your House, nicknamed F.O.B. by Zane and Alex which might explain why the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your House never came around the Lab or their apartment/floor).

“Ah-ha!” Carlos cheers when he manages to find one of Cecil’s band Ts and shrugs it on before heading into the living room.

Outside, the sun was sitting comfortably in the sky, obscured occasionally by the passing cloud. And in the street bellow, some of the younger children played as their parents sat on the steps leading to the apartment building and gossiped. One of the children spotted him looking and waved and Carlos waved back good humoredly.

“Who are you waving too?” Cecil asked, setting the table with egg and toast and turkey bacon. Which made Carlos grin like an idiot on the inside because Cecil had remembered and he’d bought turkey bacon after learning Carlos didn’t like normal bacon and it was sweet. It was really sweet. Because Cecil preferred plain bacon and he’d remembered.

“The kids,” Carlos said coming over and taking a seat. He really needed to look into getting that ban on wheat and what-by-products lifted he thought as he lifted up a piece of glutton-free toast. He’d always had toast with butter and jam for breakfast since he was an undergrad feeding himself for the first time. And the loss of right and proper bread stung.

“You can see them?”

The surprise in Cecil’s voice made Carlos pause and look up away from the toast dangling precariously on the tips of his fingers. “Are they usually not … seen?”

“Council mandate,” Cecil said, glancing outside the window next to their kitchen-nook table as if to check to see if he could see anything, “If the children are unseen then they are less likely to be spotted by a predator. The protection, of course, wears off once they reach grade school because how else would a teacher know if you are present or not, but for the most part the system works.”

“Then why can I see them?” he asked taking a bite of his breakfast. He’d have to make a note of this and tell Hussain about this. It would definitely be something the sociologist would want to look into.

‘Wait!’ He mentally groaned. ‘No. No science.’ He was on vacation. Instead, he changed the mental note to writing it down on his phone to tell Hussain later. After break. For now, he’d let Hussain and Minnie have their time together. Like how he was going to have his time with Cecil. He was just going to enjoy this.

He took another bite of his toast and pretended that he couldn’t see Cecil trying to secretly add more food to his plate, a habit ever since Auntie Kayode had accused of Cecil not feeding him enough when really Carlos just had a terrible habit of not eating enough.

“I don’t know. I can ask City Council for you?” Cecil offered looking rather upset that he couldn’t answer Carlos’ question himself.

“No it’s fine,” Carlos waved his hand as if to wave the issue away. “Maybe after break.” No science for now, he repeated. Save it all for after break.

For a moment, Cecil looked genuinely shocked before smiling so quickly Carlos wondered if he’d read it right (it wouldn’t be the first time he misread social cues, now would it?)

“Okay.” Cecil echoed. “After break.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> There is an ask blog on Tumblr dedicated to this series and it's OCs. It is called http://wtnv-ask-the-scientists.tumblr.com


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